I Don't Want to Miss a Thing
by CanisLupusHorribilis
Summary: All it took was a rainstorm to turn their lives upside down. All it took was a single touch to remind them who they lived for. Leon/Ada In the process of being rewritten.
1. Prolouge

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing

Disclaimer: I own Thor. In a way. Nothing else though.

A/N: The people have spoken and I have given. They wanted a rewrite of this story and here it is. Now, this story is going to be quite different from the original but about quarter of the story will basically be the exact same as the original. The story won't be nearly as long as it was originally supposed to be and instead of somebody from Ada's past causing problems, it will be somebody from Leon's present.

The loud crack of the pool balls crashing into each other broke the somber silence that had filled the bar. Leon Kennedy glanced over his shoulder, his leather jacket groaning at the slight movement, and his light cerulean eyes landed on the familiar forms of his co-workers. On any other night, Leon might've joined them. He was good at pool – good at most sports really - but that night, he just wanted to be alone.

He finished off his beer, tipping the bottle as far as possible to catch any last drops of the liquor, and he dully noticed that the burn that typically followed the alcohol was gone. In other words, he'd been there a while and had put finished off one too many beers and way too many shots. Which was not surprising. He'd done the exact same thing for the past six years.

Leon grabbed the final shot – whiskey or something, he couldn't remember any longer - before him and unconsciously held the small glass up in a mock toast. Bitter feelings rushed up to meet his drunken brain but they quickly vanished as he let one thought float through his thoughts instead.

_And here's to year seven, _he thought as he gulped down the shot and slammed the glass down on the bar. The whiskey, or whatever it was, slid down his throat like water. That was his sign. Although he didn't really mind walking home drunk, when hard liquor stopped affecting him, he knew he needed to call it quits.

He stood from the old bar stool and offered his friends a quick wave, showing them that he was leaving so they didn't ask where he'd disappeared to the next day. A few of them noticed and waved back but most of them ignored Leon as he exited the bar. Perhaps it was because they knew the bitter truth as to why Leon was so upset. Perhaps it was because they were as drunk as Leon himself. It was more likely the second one.

Leon exited the bar and stepped into the cold night air of Washington D.C. A gentle wind had picked up and it brushed against his face pleasantly. His overheated body, possibly caused by the overly warm bar, welcomed the icy wind. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and took off down the street, ignoring the thunder overhead.

As the cold rain started to slowly sprinkle down onto Leon's head, he found himself drifting back to that night all those years ago. The dreams that haunted him during his sleep were still as clear as ever and at times he woke with the sickly sweet scent of decaying flesh still in his nose. His dark room, typically such a comforting sight to him, danced with horrible scenes forever burned into his mind. He could see a skinless monster, its lance-like tongue dribbling saliva, crouched in the corner. And standing in the doorframe would be the massive, ham-fisted tyrant that had hunted him to its bitter end. And of course, the decaying citizens of the city dragged their crumbling bodies forward on ruined limbs, their guts longing for his flesh.

The fact that something from all those years ago had imbedded itself so well into him had many psychiatrists baffled. They were simply amazed that he could vividly see these things thanks to his brain's damage from the city and they constantly questioned him because of it. They'd asked him questions that ranged from simple yes or no answers to elaborate explanations about personal affairs. However, Leon hadn't ever told them about the one thing that was a solid constant in the dreams and nightmares alike. And that constant was someone he'd forced himself not to think about as often because he knew he'd drive himself insane.

It wasn't working.

Leon stopped silently, raising a hand to his already pounding head. The rain was coming down in sheets now, soaking his once warm clothes until they felt like ice on his back instead of cotton. And the cold was only adding to the pain that he was going through. Both the physical and mental pain were discomforted by the stinging droplets of rain.

_Damn… I just had to drink that much didn't I? I should've learned not to do this by now, _Leon thought as he rubbed his temples. He had to get home soon before the alcohol did one of its jobs – along with making the dreams and memories go away - and put him to sleep. The agent was grateful that his apartment was only two blocks away from the bar. His legs could carry him that far in a matter of minutes.

The rest of the walk was a dull blur to Leon. The beer and shots were finally taking control of his basic motor functions and making his movements sluggish and his limbs feel unconnected to his body. It took every piece of control in him to unlock his apartment door when he finally arrived. The rain continued down in sheets, every droplet feeling like a small needle digging into his flesh, and Leon stumbled into the blackness of his living room. He gave the door behind him a steady shove from his left hand and it swung shut. He didn't bother locking it. Nobody dared mess with the man who left his apartment with a gun on his thigh every couple weeks.

But even his drunken senses told him he wasn't alone. In fact, he knew he was being stalked by a rather large being. This being slinked in the darkness, expertly controlling its every movement in a way most beings couldn't, and watched him through narrowed eyes. But tonight, he wasn't in the mood.

"No Thor. Leave me alone tonight," Leon ordered. His voice, typically so controlled and calm, sounded harsh even to his own drunken ears. Had one of his so-called friends been there, they would've shot him confused and almost frightened looks. Leon Kennedy, man of calm authority that could make women quiver and men cry.

Two black triangles appeared, illuminated by a sudden flash of lightning, at his command. The German shepherd trotted to his owner and rubbed his large skull against Leon's wet jeans. Thor had been Leon's near constant companion since the end of Raccoon City. His mother had bought the dog, a mere six week old puppy, as an 'I'm so glad you're alive!' gift for her damaged son. Leon had felt almost uncontrollable fury at his mother. She hadn't cried for him. She'd gotten him a dog. But the agent had never taken that fury out on the dog. No, Thor was his friend. His only true friend. A better brother than his real siblings.

"Great," Leon groaned, walking forward and past his companion. "Now I'm going to smell like wet dog…" But Leon, even drunk and nearly emotional, didn't really mind. It was Thor's way of saying that he was happy to see his owner was alive and well. The dog somehow seemed to realize that Leon didn't like this particular date. Or even the next day, really.

Thor's tail wagged violently and Leon collapsed onto the couch. He didn't bother with removing his clothes and knew he would hate himself in the morning. They would get ruined, the leather in his jacket would tighten and crack, and his boots would have to go through another violent cleaning. But that didn't matter. In fact, the only thing that mattered to the 28 year old was sleeping and not dreaming about a familiar red clad figure.

The last thing Leon registered that night was Thor resting his large head, and paw, on the agent's slowly rising and falling chest.

---

Leon hated himself. He hated himself not because he was a failure or any of that bullshit. It was because he'd gone to sleep on the couch in soaking wet clothes, including his black leather jacket. He woke up with a pounding headache and the first things he noticed were his wet dog and his wet clothes. He vaguely remembered the thunderstorm but the night before felt like a year ago to the hung-over agent.

Leon drove through the city, telling himself that his head didn't hurt like he'd just gotten hit by a rock and that he hadn't had to grab his last back-up jacket because he'd successfully ruined his old one. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, looking out over the blue and black hood of his Mustang GT.

He was pretty practical when it came to cars. In fact, there were only two types of cars he was likely to buy. Jeeps and Mustangs. The two vehicles he'd grown up with. However, since Raccoon City, he was less likely to be seen with Jeeps. He had enough memories of the city than he wanted and remembering the abandoned Jeep was an insult. And Mustangs were good for speed and getting away. Which, God knows, Leon had moments when he needed to get away and the car's get-up and go was very handy.

His eyes found where he needed to go. The White House. It towered like a huge white cloud that had for some reason come to the earth below and was surrounded by its charcoal colored brethren that were jealous of its contact with Earth. In fact, when he was in the White House, he didn't feel like he was real anymore, like the real Leon was somewhere else. But then again, who would? How many children go up to their mothers and say, "I want to be a Secret Service agent when I grow up so I can't have any friends and I can become a recluse!"

Leon shook his head bitterly. The truth was, he hadn't wanted to join the Secret Service in the first place. He'd wanted to stay lower, possibly among the ranks of the CIA or even the NSA but he hadn't gotten the choice. As soon as the higher-ups had gotten a hold of his statistics they'd basically marched down there and grabbed him themselves. They hadn't even given him any words of encouragement. They'd simply said, "Welcome to the White House, Kennedy. And your new family."

_But that doesn't matter, does it? Not going to the White House. The new B.S.A.A. wants me to work with them on some bullshit about Umbrella. God, I'm sick of Umbrella…And it doesn't help that they can't get over the damned corp. It's dead._

Since the main headquarters wasn't in D.C. – the B.S.A.A. was based across the planet and the North American branch was set up in New York - the agents had decided to set up a meeting with Leon in a café in downtown. He was pretty lucky he knew where they were talking about; otherwise they would've just left him in the dark about it. They'd just shoved the papers at him, told him to go to the café, and had left.

Leon only knew a couple of the B.S.A.A. agents based in North America. One was Chris Redfield, a man with muscles on his muscles. For some reason, Redfield had decided after his stalemate with Wesker in Antarctica, he was going to beef up until he could challenge the late Jack Krauser in a arm wrestling competition. Leon didn't really know Chris. He'd never stood face to face with the man. But he'd heard plenty of him from Claire Redfield, the man-hulk's little sister. In fact, while Leon was running for his life in Raccoon City, all Claire could talk about was her older brother.

Then there was Jill Valentine. Supposedly one of the best, Jill was called the 'Master of Unlocking' by friendly Barry Burton. Supposedly, for unknown reasons, Jill could unlock any door with a lock pick. Leon wasn't certain that was a talent he would brag about but to each their own. Valentine was yet another Leon had never personally met. He'd heard about her through the government, who were keeping track of her for some unknown reason. But if Leon knew his fellow government members, they were not watching her for a good reason.

Of course, there was the now retired Barry Burton, the nickname giver. Barry had helped Redfield and Valentine create the B.S.A.A. alongside others. He was a friendly man who had an unhealthy past of betraying his fellow teammates. No doubt that little fact remained heavy in the minds of his fellow agents and eventually caused him to step down. Leon had met the man but only once, a long time ago. Barry had told the younger man his past, about how Wesker had used his family to manipulate him. Leon hadn't blamed Barry for betraying his teammates. Not really.

And finally there was Rebecca Chambers, the medic. Supposedly a child genius, Rebecca was the standing doctor of the North American branch. She was as good with her medicines as Redfield was with his guns. Rebecca had a past that she believed nobody knew about, though the government did. She'd helped ex-lieutenant Billy Coen escape certain death and had spread the report that Billy had died in Raccoon City's forest. The government, however, wasn't fooled. People tended to underestimate just how deadly the government could be. Even the tiniest piece of information, such as a picture of Rebecca wearing a pair of dog tags with the name 'Coen, William' on them, gave the government all they needed. But Billy had been left alone. For reasons Leon didn't know.

The car started to slow down as Leon approached a red light. The agent stiffly flexed his arms, his shirt pulling tight over his muscles as he did so, in an attempt to physically eliminate the thoughts that suddenly began to fill his head. The thoughts of that red figure.

_Everything somehow comes back to her… And you were doing so well. Hadn't completely gotten rid of these memories of her but they were almost gone. And then Spain happened and she might as well have slapped you for the way you constantly think about her now…_

It took him about ten more minutes to make it to the café, being slowed by two more stoplights. He noticed that a group of odd looking people, all clad in normal street clothes but wearing at least a shirt or sweater with B.S.A.A. on them, standing outside of the café. He didn't recognize any of them and realized it was likely this was just one of the teams he'd be forced to interact with.

Leon parked his Mustang near the café and climbed out of the vehicle. Almost immediately, a familiar looking blond man walked over to him. Pale stubble marked the man's face, his hair disheveled and seemingly unwashed. It was Bruce McGivern, former member of STRATCOM. Leon guessed that the older man had either joined the Secret Service or the B.S.A.A. Otherwise, he wouldn't be standing among the ranks of the other B.S.A.A.

"Hey kid," Bruce said, his thick Southern drawl lacing every word and making them sound foreign to the Midwestern raised man. Leon forced a smile onto his lips, trying to look a little less miserable than he felt. "Everything okay? You look like you got run over by a semi and it didn't kill you, it just pissed you off." Obviously, his attempt didn't work.

"What was last night, Bruce?" Leon asked, letting his smile fall as quickly as it had appeared. Bruce's eyes widened as realization struck that the date was marking the day Leon had escaped the clutches of the city of the dead. It was a well known fact that Leon was miserable the two days that marked the anniversary of Raccoon City for him.

"Sorry… I forgot… I mean, to me it's really easy to remember mine but… Raccoon City isn't so…" Bruce trailed off and Leon wanted to laugh. Raccoon City's dates were unforgettable. The news made sure of that. Every October 1st, they bombarded the American people with 'anniversary of Raccoon City disaster' bullshit. Reporters tried to interview the survivors of the incidents and typically got rejected. Film was taken of the destroyed city. And stuffed animal raccoons were sold in stores that looked like the one that had served as Raccoon City's mascot.

"You guys look like something died," a man in a baseball cap laughed as he walked over to the two blonds. Leon stared at him steadily, probably looking much like the robot the government had turned him into, but didn't say anything. "Anyway, the others wanted to talk to you about some new Intel we got on…well…a woman."

The Secret Service agent felt every muscle in his body lock in place. It couldn't be her, could it? She wasn't sloppy. She didn't make mistakes. She didn't let people track her. So, it made no sense for it to be her. Of course, the B.S.A.A. were pretty good. Even the tiniest of slipups could've doomed her. But that was unlikely. She never made mistakes.

"Are you even listening?" Bruce hissed as the B.S.A.A. agent blabbered on. Leon glanced at the older man and offered him a sheepish smirk. Bruce laughed silently and said, "Okay. I'll email you the info later tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever I get around to it. Just look it over. They want a government agent's opinion on it is all." Leon wanted to know why they couldn't just ask Bruce but he remembered then that Bruce apparently wasn't government anymore. "Jesus, you look like hell man."

Leon inwardly cringed. Was his appearance that bad? He knew he looked gaunt, probably tired, and robotic no doubt. But he couldn't look that bad, right? Or did Bruce mean the fact that he probably looked as hung over as he felt. Leon decided to play it careful and go with that one. "I feel like hell…"

"Why don't you head on home? I'll cover for you," Bruce said. Leon shot him a grateful look, not for the first time glad to have found a true friend in Bruce McGivern, when a crack filled the air. The sound seemed to ripple overhead and the agents, B.S.A.A. and Secret Service alike, tensed up and reached for their weapons. Leon was the first to notice that the crack was not gunfire but thunder.

"Shit, we'll have to call this off for now," a tall bald man called. He looked at Leon. "When do you get time off again?" Leon wanted to laugh. He never got time off. The President just gave him a little leeway every now and then. But he thought about it and decided to come up with some kind of lie.

"Um… Next month maybe. Look, I'll call Bruce and tell him when we can all meet again. Then he can tell you," Leon said, carefully making sure he didn't give them a date when his service would be needed by the government. There wasn't anything happening next month. At least, not that Leon could remember.

The bald man nodded and the B.S.A.A. turned and left. Bruce stood still for a couple minutes before he said, "Yeah, I'll email you that info tonight probably. There's a lot though so it might take a while." How much could there be? Leon was beginning to doubt it was her at all. It must've been some other woman.

Leon nodded his head lightly and started for his car, ready to get out of the rain before it ruined his last jacket. He heard Bruce walk in the other direction, leaving him alone in the cold rain to walk back to his Mustang. But, like the night before in his apartment, he had a feeling he wasn't alone.

He looked up, past the parking lot entrance, and there she was. A ghost of his past standing about ten feet from him. And with the way rain splashed off of her ever pale bare shoulders, he knew she wasn't a fake. Of course, her stunning beauty still made her seem ethereal. He stopped walking and stared at her in disbelief. He'd never seen her outside of a mission and yet here she was.

"It's rude to stare, handsome," Ada Wong purred as she stepped forward, her high heels clicking slightly on the water covered asphalt. That's when he noticed something odd. She was in a crimson cocktail dress, a slit running down the right leg like the one she'd worn in Spain, with no jacket on. And oddly enough, while she tried to keep a stoic look on her angelic face, he saw the fear in her pale eyes. It lay, trapped underneath her calm superiority like a trapped animal that was just waiting to get out.

"Sorry, it's not everyday that somebody walks around in a D.C. storm in a dress. Might be an interesting sight," Leon remarked casually while unconsciously stepping closer to her. She smiled at him, the fear almost dissolving in her eyes as if something about him eased her. But that was ridiculous. He didn't calm her.

"Right, good point," she agreed, almost making a conversation with him. But then he noticed her arms were shaking, crossed over her chest in a common way to contain body heat, and he knew she was freezing from the late fall rain.

"Care to explain what you're doing in the rain?" he asked, hoping he'd get an answer from her for once. He felt the rain soaking through his jacket again and knew that he'd be buying a new one soon enough. According to a couple of his friends – if that's what they could be called – he went through jackets faster than he went ammo.

"Thought I'd take a stroll around the city. It wasn't raining earlier, you know," she lied, holding his stare easily. He wasn't sure if he'd honestly expected a truthful answer out of her. She hadn't failed him, however. She'd kept up the typical attitude that he'd always associated with her.

"I'm not that stupid. I'll admit I'm no super genius. But I'm no idiot either," Leon replied. She smiled, almost a wistful smile, and looked away from him. He felt old feelings bubbling to life within him. He wanted to walk over to her, pull her to him to shield her from the rain and whatever else was bothering her, and just for once be normal with her. But that wasn't possible. For either of them.

"You caught me," she said, shrugging. She seemed to cringe at the shrug, he noticed. No doubt her entire body was numb from the rain. Again, he felt the urge to walk over to her and shield her from the rain. "But I'm not telling why."

Any other day he might've groaned but right then, he was beginning to get concerned. The shaking had become more violent and was almost a tremor that was constantly running through her arms. He was fighting himself about what to do about the woman before him. He could turn her over to the government, like he was trained to do. Or he could be the old Leon, the one that was only concerned with her wellbeing. Finally, the old Leon broke through and he walked over to her, closing the gap between them. They were only about a foot away from one another now.

"You're going to freeze to death," he said, taking his jacket off. A thankful smile replaced the pensive look from earlier and she stepped gratefully into the jacket. He draped it over her shoulders, the sleeves hanging limply at her sides. She smiled thankfully up at him and, if he didn't know better, he might've thought there were tears in her eyes.

He noticed that she looked pretty damn good in his jacket and that alone seemed to make his now cold arms, which were being struck violently by the freezing rain, worth it. "Will you at least let me take you somewhere? Even if it's a store or something?" he asked, hoping. He wasn't supposed to do this. The government would tear him to pieces if they found out he was helping the enemy. But this wasn't his enemy, no matter what she did to him. No gun to the head or coy remark could erase her sacrifice, her blood on his hands, from his memory.

"I don't have anywhere to go," Ada said, her eyes betraying her emotions again. Fear had come back and she looked almost concerned. She seemed to take a step away from him, like she was afraid he'd grab her and drag her somewhere. He wouldn't unless she was in danger. That was different though.

At that steady comment, and the look in her eyes, the agent felt something familiar come to life within him. And he didn't hesitate. "Then come with me. At least until it stops raining."

"Always the good guy, Leon?" she asked as their eyes met again. He shrugged and watched her, waiting and hopeful. And for a single second, she looked like she was fighting herself, like she didn't know what she should do. And that was confusing because the Ada he knew always knew what to do. But then she smiled lightly and said, "Why not? Okay."

He felt his shoulders relax lightly, realizing that they'd tensed up some time ago. The feeling that something else was going on was heavy in his chest but at least for now and he could feel better knowing she wasn't going to freeze to death in the rain. Had that happened, he would've hated himself for life.

As he led her to his car, the pale blue paint of the Mustang making it stick out like a phantom in the dark, he couldn't help but notice how close she stayed to him. They were close enough that he could feel the rough jacket against his wrist, swaying slightly with every step she took. And they were close enough that he felt her shaking fingers brush against his.


	2. Chapter 2

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing

A/N: I had to update these first two chapters together to actually make it update, since I replaced the first chapter rather than started a new story. That means the next update will be in three or four days, instead of the typical 'every other day' system I've been using.

The gentle rumble of the airplane might've lulled him into a sense of comfort had he not been surrounded by people who deemed it their jobs to bother him. He had been placed near the window and while he would typically deem that good luck, the woman sitting to his right had a baby that had not stopped crying since the plane had left for D.C. Then the kid behind him, which probably wasn't even a kid judging by the strength he was showing, kicked the agent's seat rhythmically every couple minutes. And finally, occupying the seat in front of him was an overweight man who had his seat leaned back as far as possible. To say the least, Leon was very uncomfortable.

_Relax, Kennedy… It will all be over soon and you'll be home with your dog and everything will be fine…for two days at least. _

The agent would've shaken his head had he been anywhere but on the plane. The thought was not untrue, which was rather depressing, and it reminded Leon of his rather bitter life. He had a mission at least every week and sometimes he didn't even get a break in-between them. He'd once gone an entire week without a single break. Luckily, Bruce was always willing to take Thor off Leon's hands especially after the agent had assisted the B.S.A.A. in discovering some vital information about a company named Tricell.

The kicking started up again, right on time, as a steady thumping against the back of his chair and Leon had to grind his teeth together to resist the urge to reach into his jacket and pull out the .45 caliber handgun that lay against his body. One of the good things about being in the government was the sanction of carrying concealed weapons everywhere, even on high security planes. Of course, the Air Marshall on the plane knew he was there so that Leon had freedom to draw his weapon in case of an emergency.

"Shh, shh, it's okay my little boy," the woman next to him cooed to the sobbing baby. The small being was wrapped tightly in a large, hot pink blanket and looked like a toy without a face or limbs. Leon pushed himself closer to the window while remembering the never-ending sobbing of his younger sister when he'd still lived with his mother. "Please stop crying," the woman mumbled, practically begging the child.

And Leon did the unexpected. "It's the change in pressure," he suddenly said. The woman looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with shock. "Animals and children don't have methods to fix the fact that we react to changes in pressure so it causes them discomfort. Get him something to chew on. That should help."

She blinked at him, obviously amazed that the man in the brown leather jacket and black clothing was offering advice on how to get her child to stop crying. But then she nodded and said, "Thank you." He nodded his head and looked away from her, instead turning his eyes to the window where the clouds passed slowly. A few minutes later, the crying stopped and the plane fell into a contented silence.

_Ah, peace. Let's see how long this will last. Probably… Five minutes. I'll get it five minutes._

Leon glanced down at his watch, which was barely visible underneath the rim of the left sleeve of his jacket. But the white face showed him that it was twelve something in the afternoon. They'd be arriving in D.C. very soon. A half hour or so more, he guessed. He'd boarded the plane at eleven-thirty, leaving from a city in southwestern Virginia to get to D.C.

The agent unconsciously let his thoughts wander back to why he'd been in Virginia to start with. Once again, the deadly virus that had put him through hell on his first day as a police office had found him and caused him trouble. This time it had been a terrorist attack though, not a mistake, and the virus had been purposely released into the Harvardville Airport. Unlike Frederic Downing, the still evil Umbrella corporation hadn't actually released the T-Virus into Raccoon City. Of course, that didn't condone what had happened. But Umbrella had paid for their mistakes. Just like Downing was now.

Downing was a man with power that even he didn't fully understand. Leon knew he did, and Claire Redfield probably did, because they'd both faced the mutating William Birkin who'd infected himself with the G-Virus to save it and his life. Although the virus wasn't as good as the T-Virus to use as a tool for terrorism, it was much deadlier and stronger. Birkin had taken three rockets, a train blowing up, and a tunnel collapsing on his head to kill. And the latest victim of the Gene Virus, Curtis Miller, was no exception to the virus's amazing abilities. It had taken a fall down a massive tunnel and an explosion to kill him.

Leon leaned farther back in his chair, trying to get his constantly tensed up muscles to relax, but a burst of pain exploded in between his shoulders blades as his back pressed against the cushioned seat. He cringed, his fists clenching as almost nauseating pain rushed up and down his spine. He knew he should've grabbed a couple painkillers from the doctors that had tried to tend to him after Harvardville. But he'd simply wanted to get home and had turned down their offers.

_And this is what you get, moron. Even you should've realized that the adrenaline would've eventually faded away and your back would start giving you problems. Damn… Why am I so stupid sometimes?_

With a shake of his head, Leon ended the self-scolding session. It was too late to think about now. He was almost home anyway. He could handle a little back pain. In fact, Leon was amazed it wasn't worse. Considering he'd been smacked into the air, had practically flown thirty feet, had smacked into a steel roof with enough force to dent it, had slid about four feet, and had smacked into a pillar hard enough to make his back go numb, the pain he was encountering wasn't enough to actually be considered that bad. It could've been much worse.

The agent leaned a fraction of an inch, to save his back a little bit of the trauma of being kicked by the kid behind him, and looked back out the window of the plane. Once again, he'd been hurt trying to save somebody else. If it wasn't jumping in front of a bullet, it was trying to save a twenty year old that was scared out of her wits, or trying to help a twenty-nine year old escape from a collapsing building. At least the twenty-nine year old hadn't spent the entire time either complaining or screaming, though he didn't really blame the twenty year old.

_And that's all they've become to you, isn't it? They're not Ashley Graham and Angela Miller anymore. They'd the twenty year old and the twenty-nine year old. You know what, people are right in saying that you're too much of a government agent._

He cringed faintly at the thought. But there was no denying the truth. Even though he respected young Ashley, who'd kept her sanity unlike some people, and actually liked Angela, who was eerily similar in a way to somebody else he knew, he'd stopped treating them like they were real people. People didn't seem to exist in his eyes anymore. And that was worrying. And frightening.

But Angela… Something about her had caused the old Leon to peek out, just a little bit. She was pretty, cunning, and quick when it came to working. And although she wasn't as good as he was on the battlefield, he didn't really mind being the better one, for once. He was tired of being bested by a woman, namely the woman in read. But Angela was in the past. Even though he'd agreed to go 'diving' with her again, it was highly unlikely that they'd ever cross paths again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. We'll be arriving in Washington D.C. soon and-"

That was all Leon needed to hear. He blocked out the captain and leaned back again. He didn't really care about the pain in his back. He just wanted to get home. And if that brat in the seat behind him dared kick his seat, there was going to be major consequences.

---

_I'm no idiot. I know the flu and what's wrong with me isn't the flu… Definitely not the flu…The flu doesn't have the same symptoms… Not all of them at least. Even I know that._

Ada kicked the wall for what seemed to be the eighth time in the last few minutes. A light burst of pain flashed up her leg, starting from the tip of her boot and going up to her knee, but she ignored it as she spun away and flexed her fists. She typically was the stoic Ice Queen who had no emotions. Now was very different.

Her Agency was lenient. More lenient than Wesker was. But that didn't mean they didn't have the same general rules as Wesker. After all, the blond tyrant had worked for the Agency until he got too bold and started fulfilling his own agenda. They both believed that soldiers, especially spies and assassins, had to be in tip-top condition. And for that reason, both the Agency and Wesker had random physicals at odd times throughout the year. There were no secrets about health allowed.

Things such as cancer or other major diseases could be hidden in the early stages and many of the scientists did such. After all, they were the ones working with the deadly chemicals that caused the diseases or the cancer. But with these random physicals, the unhealthy scientists were cleaned up, so to speak. They were killed and often times turned into the next experiment, though that was more Wesker's doing than the Agency. The Agency often placed their dead scientists in a grave near the base they'd been working at.

And then there were always the pregnancies. As human beings, almost everybody in either group, Wesker or the Agency, sought out human contact of one form or another. But the consequences of these actions ended up being very bad. The Agency typically killed both the man and the woman upon finding out about the pregnancy. No weaknesses could be allowed and nearly nine months of extensive protection and pampering was indeed weak. But at least the Agency was fast about it. Wesker wasn't.

Wesker, his mind so far lost in the depths of insanity, would prolong the death of the woman and the unborn baby. Typically, Ada had heard the doomed woman tell her friends that she thought she had a chance, that maybe Wesker was being nice. Ada knew, as did most of the employees including the woman herself, that Wesker was never nice. So, eventually, one of his little pets would hunt the poor woman down and murder her. Brutally.

Ada stopped her constant pacing as memories of gore covered halls filled her mind. Even the cold hearted murderer in her found the methods Wesker used towards pregnant women disgusting. And she knew that Wesker's childhood as an orphan sort of led to his extreme hatred of pregnant women. It wasn't just weakness to him. It was disgusting

The Eurasian woman's thoughts turned to another worry that had been nibbling at her mind for nearly a year. Wesker no doubt knew that the Plagas sample she'd given him was a fake. She'd been ordered by the Agency, who now feared that Wesker was going mad with his power – as if he wasn't mad already – to give Wesker a fake Master Plagas sample while she gave them the real one. Of course, Ada hadn't given them the real sample either. No, the real sample was deep under a mountain in the continental United States being poked and prodded at by government scientists, just as she'd planned would happen.

Anyway, Ada feared that Wesker was simply thinking up the cruelest way to kill her for her betrayal. But no doubt the blond tyrant knew she was going to be hard to kill, which was probably why he was taking so long in enacting the plan of killing her. The funny thing about Ada was, unless she wanted you to, you wouldn't catch her. Years of running from furious people, cops, and monsters had led to the skills she had. She was as difficult to catch as a slippery bar of soap in a shower. Especially now that she had two more secrets sitting on her shoulders, secrets she was willing to protect in a way that even Wesker couldn't get to them.

As if drawn into the thought of one of those secrets, she wondered what Leon was doing. Last she'd heard from one of her contacts in the government, he'd been sent on a mission to some airport in Virginia. She couldn't help but worry about the agent, even though she knew damn well that he could easily handle himself. Just a year or so more of training and she had no doubt in her mind that he would be as good as her.

Of course, the mission and Leon's training weren't what she was thinking about. No, she was thinking about the month and a half of visits. Ever since that fateful night in the rain, when he'd draped his heavy leather jacket over her shoulders in a most gentlemanly manner, she'd taken to visiting him at his apartment at least twice a week. They didn't really do anything. Usually, he offered her something to drink and they sat down and talked. They talked about everything that wasn't related to their personal jobs and their pasts. She noticed that while he'd mentioned his sister, he'd never spoken of his past. And likewise, she never dared delve into her own painful past. The farthest they'd ever spoken of was Raccoon City. And even then it was simply a reference.

She sat down on her bed and placed her face into her hands, feeling dread and hopelessness hanging above her head. Everything had turned upside down all those years ago. It always came back to Raccoon, no matter what the topic was about, because that was the city that had brought the person in her back to life. She'd lived for years as the cold blooded murderer but then Leon had stepped into her life and, with his constant need to protect and serve, that murderer in her was gone. After Raccoon, Ada had found it actually _difficult_ to kill people. She'd see them as what they were; not targets but people.

Raccoon City had changed the both of them. But on the outside, Ada couldn't really see anything truly wrong with the agent. No matter what was thrown in his face, Leon Kennedy kept going. He was still going strong and he could still sit down with somebody and hold a normal conversation. His ability to remain emotionally steady and almost normal in a manner of speaking was something she envied him for.

She, on the other hand, was an emotional wreck. Leon was the only thing that had given her a purpose to live. That rainy night, when he'd taken her home with him just to get her out of the rain, had only been an accident. She hadn't meant to see him and when she'd noticed him, she'd meant to leave. But after a year of not seeing him she'd wanted to talk to him, to see if he was still Leon and not the robot everybody claimed he was. So, she'd taken the chance and had stayed instead of running when she'd spotted him and he'd proven he was still Leon and she'd wanted to cry. Because he was still Leon, still the man she'd fallen for those years ago.

That night, though wonderful it was, also marked the beginning of a new secret she was forced to keep. But this one had to be hidden. Wesker knew about Leon, though he probably didn't know about their more recent meetings, and also knew that she would willingly protect him. Wesker claimed her love for Leon was a weakness. It was, however, her greatest strength. But this new secret, nobody could know about or the ultimate consequence would be paid. Not even Leon himself could know.

Her thoughts turned away from Wesker. She couldn't afford to think about him or she'd scare herself. And she didn't feel like scaring herself any longer. So, she turned her thoughts to one of the only things she loved besides Leon and her Corvette. The big dog that had deemed it his job to stalk her and Leon as they walked in from the pouring rain, his big body moving with the silent grace that all predators had.

She'd loved Thor right away. He was adorable and smart and he was indeed a loyal companion. For some reason, Thor had trusted her the second she'd knelt down to rub his head. The German shepherd, a breed of superior standards, was black backed and gold bottomed, with white sprinkled on his chest and stomach. He was indeed a handsome specimen and was exactly the animal she'd expect a man like Leon to own. The dog had spent many nights laying with them and accepting rubs from both his master and the new woman in the apartment. Except for that first night, the rainy night, when he'd ended up sleeping on the other side of the closed door because-

A knock at Ada's door snapped her from the more peaceful thoughts and a new emotion, one she'd only felt two or three other times in her life, slithered into her heart. She was actually afraid and she knew what the knock meant. They knocked if it meant you were up next. Not exactly the greatest system in the world but the Agency liked it. And it built suspense Ada guessed. At least it wasn't Wesker's method. In his buildings, they just burst through the door and grabbed you before dragging you to the lab where the physical would take place. Of course, they hadn't tried that with Ada after the first time, when she'd shot one in the head and had sliced another one's throat open with a knife.

_I don't have the flu… It's not the flu…_

---

As he walked up to the bright blue Mustang in the D.C. airport's parking lot, Leon realized that there had never been a better sight in the world. That car symbolized all kinds of things to people, such as freedom and money. But to Leon it represented his return home. Because now he could get in the Mustang, drive home, and sleep for three days. Well, the last part wasn't very likely. Leon couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten more than an hour of sleep.

Before the agent could climb into the car, however, he heard a familiar accented voice calling his name. He stopped himself from simply getting into the vehicle and driving off anyway and looked up to see Bruce jogging up. The other man looked as he usually did, unshaven and unhygienic. Leon wasn't certain why a man with a decent paycheck couldn't keep himself clean. Of course, Bruce claimed his appearance was because women loved the rugged look. Leon highly doubted that.

"The B.S.A.A. wants to talk to you," Bruce gasped while doubling over to catch his breath with his hands resting above his knees. "Redfield wants to make sure his sister is all right and some shit like that. And I was told to come and fetch you." Leon felt exhaustion and pain tugging at him like it had a corporeal form, such as the ones seen in cartoons to serve as scents for the silly little characters, and almost felt like getting in the car.

"No," he said steadily. "I just got home and I'd really like to just go home. Tell them Claire is fine and that she's staying in Harvardville with her friend. I'm going home Bruce." He guessed the other agent had actually run from the B.S.A.A. safe house to catch up to the Secret Service agent but Leon didn't care. They should've realized that he'd want at least three minutes of a break after coming home from yet another bioterrorism incident.

"They'll be pissed," Bruce warned. Leon opened his Mustang's door, glaring at his fellow agent. "They'll probably come bother you at your apartment." The younger agent didn't speak, though he silently thought that anybody who wanted to come try something would have his highly dangerous guard dog to deal with first. "And they'll give you shit for-"

"Bruce," he said softly, knowing his voice sounded as strained as he felt, "I don't care. I don't care if they spend every God damned day outside of my apartment yelling. I'm going home. Tell them that if they really want to talk to me, they need to talk to the President of the United States first."

---

Ada parked the shimmering Corvette in the empty spot that sat before Leon's apartment. The parking lot was rather empty thanks to it being a work day, a mission day for Leon, but Ada was still slightly distressed at the fact that Leon's Mustang wasn't in its typical parking space. He wasn't home yet. And she'd been hoping he'd be there when she got there.

She'd managed to escape from the base by pure luck, walking out as everybody else was starting for their physicals or returning to their rooms. She'd been able to get by unnoticed somehow - possibly because she'd actually wanted to get out without being seen and when she wanted to get out there wasn't much stopping her from accomplishing just that - and had sped away from the base as soon as she'd gotten into her car. Thank God for fast cars.

As she walked up to Leon's apartment, the nippy air making her regret not grabbing a jacket as she'd fled from the base leaving her only wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, she heard Thor scratching at the door. Had he perhaps caught her scent? Or was he just getting antsy from not having Leon around? The more human side of the assassin hoped that the dog was excited that she was there. Even though she didn't typically need contact from anything, human or otherwise, the idea that Thor could perhaps actually like her that much made her feel better.

_Stupid hormones… _

Ada knelt if front of the door, not really caring if anybody noticed her, and with deft fingers picked the lock with an ever trusty lock pick. She never went anywhere without something she could use to break into a place. Or guns. She was a spy after all. And spies had the tendency to carry lock picks and guns as easily as the average person carried a wallet or an ID.

As soon as the door was unlocked and she'd turned the knob to open it, Thor was pushing out to get to her. She stayed kneeling to rub his ears, like he loved her to do, as he shoved his head towards her. The dog hated to be alone. That much was obvious from the way the dog was rubbing against her. Again, some part of her hoped it wasn't loneliness causing the dog to react this way but love for her. And again she shook that idea off.

"Is Leon going to be home soon, Thor?" she asked as she scratched the shepherd behind the ears. While his ears swiveled every which way, soaking up all of the sounds around him, his chocolate colored eyes fixed onto hers and Ada wished she knew what the animal was thinking. She wanted to peek into his thoughts and see if he had any input on the man they both loved. "Come on, we'll wait for him."

---

The black Corvette was the first thing he noticed as he pulled the Mustang into the parking lot. Its sleek, ebony body glistened under the blazing sun, showing off its owners car in how it looked. Leon had no doubt that if people were to compare her Corvette to his Mustang, her 'Vette would win easily because he didn't have the time to wash his Mustang more than once a month. Sometimes, he didn't get to wash it at all.

The agent climbed out of his vehicle, making sure to lock it, before he walked up to his apartment. As he walked, he knew that Ada had already made herself at home. She'd done this several times before, appearing in his apartment randomly. The weeks since that rainy day had been filled with constant visits from her. It was the most he'd ever seen her. All because of the rain. Well, that and her deciding to not wear a jacket.

When he reached the door and twisted the handle to find that the apartment's main entrance was unlocked, he smirked. Leave it to Ada to unlock the door and then leave it unlocked just to let him know she was there. As if the Corvette sitting out front didn't tell him that already.

He entered the apartment, noticing that only the stove light was on so the apartment was rather dark while shutting the door behind him with a gentle push of his left hand, and was instantly bombarded by a large animal. Thor practically threw himself into Leon's arms, licking at his owner's face happily. Leon shoved the canine away from him before kneeling down. This time, the animal calmly walked to Leon and the agent rubbed his head.

"Hey there, boy," he said gently, almost lovingly. This was one of the few things that got to see the human side of Leon on a daily basis. Thor had, throughout Leon's training, been the only constant to stand by him and Leon had returned the favor by loving Thor unconditionally, even if the animal was only given to him by his mother because of Raccoon City.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something," a familiar purring voice said gently from the direction of his bedroom. Leon looked up and spotted one of the other things that actually saw the human side of him. Ada stood, leaning partially up against the wall connected to the door frame, watching him and the dog. She wasn't smirking, like she usually did, but Leon didn't notice that much. Exhaustion and pain were again taking their toll on him.

"Nope," he said, standing. The word was clipped and his voice sounded as irritated as he felt. When her eyes flickered, going from playful eyes to more worried eyes, he felt regret rush through him. Something seemed wrong and now even exhaustion and pain couldn't stop him from seeing that.

"Right…" she said softly, her eyes falling from his. This time, he knew without a doubt that something was very wrong. She only dropped her eyes from his if there was something she was trying to hide or she was going to do something to him, like when she'd used her exploding sunglasses to blind him in Spain. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay after your mission."

The question came without him meaning it to. "How'd you know I was on a mission?" And then he cringed and said, "Wait, don't answer that." She was a spy. Of course she'd know about his missions. Besides, it wasn't like they were kept secret. The Spanish incident was well known around the country. The press had been told that the government had discovered a terrorist plot unfolding in Spain and that a single brave agent had been sent in to deal with it after the Spanish government had requested help from the U.S. Nothing more. The missions were spoken of. The truth of them often wasn't.

He noticed then that she very looked uncomfortable. He took a couple steps toward her before stopping again. They were about less than two feet away from her and he could see that she wasn't really leaning on the wall so much as she was using the wall to support herself, as if she didn't feel good and couldn't really carry her own weight.

_Something's wrong…with her…_

"It wasn't that bad of a mission. I mean, I've had much worse. The terrorists were kind of stupid. A kid probably could've figured out their plot," he babbled, trying to avoid asking her the question he knew she wouldn't answer. He'd asked her it several times in Raccoon and never once had she answered. But then the look on her face and the way she leaned against the wall got to him and he had to ask. "Are you okay?" he asked, stepping forward. They were close enough to touch each other when-

-Ada collapsed and Leon caught her. His arms immediately wrapped around her slender form, holding her to his chest, and he felt her body shaking slightly. He realized that the shaking wasn't out of cold or anything like that. No, Ada was crying. The deadliest person he'd ever come across was crying in his arms for the first time since he'd met her. She pressed herself to him, her fingers curling into fists against his shirt and Thor whimpered at the sudden scene. The agent glanced at his dog and noticed that the animal was staring at him in a way that most would've found threatening.

"They'll kill us," she whimpered against him suddenly, making him stop staring at Thor. The animal even looked at her and suddenly all of the attention in the apartment was on the deadly assassin Leon held against him. The agent was no longer exhausted and although the pain was still there, it was nothing more than a slight cramp in his back.

He was slightly confused. After that night in the rain, after their instincts got the better of them, ones that shouldn't exist between them, they'd pointed out the dangers of their actions. And they'd both agreed that if any of her employers or if the government found out, then they'd fight together and they'd die together. So, why was she reacting the way she was? She knew the consequences. And she'd been the one that had told him not to worry.

"We already discussed that," he breathed. Part of him feared that she would stop her visits. Although he'd recently encountered the S.R.T. member, whom he liked, Ada had always given him an actual reason to keep going strong throughout the years and these visits had made him feel human. They did nothing but talk. But that was all he really needed. Especially since, after the Spanish incident, he'd begun to come to terms with how he felt for her. And he was just waiting for the opportunity to tell her how he felt. He could handle rejection if she didn't feel the same way. He couldn't handle the idea of losing her.

"That's not what I mean…" she whispered. He thought he heard a bitter laugh at the end of her sentence. If there was a joke amongst all of this, Leon had missed the punch line. And this was a joke that definitely needed a punch line.

"Then… I'm lost…" he admitted, exhaustion once again settling into his bones. He was getting annoyed that the exhaustion kept coming and going. He wanted it to choose one thing or the other, not go back and forth nonstop.

His arms tightened around her, almost possessively, as he fell into his thoughts. He really didn't want to lose her. He'd felt better over these past weeks then he'd felt in seven years. Even the S.R.T. member hadn't really made him feel good. He just liked her. He and Ada would stand together. They'd take the chance of dieing together. Maybe she was just afraid, though Leon knew better than that. Ada was never really afraid. Maybe-

"I'm pregnant."

_Oh…_


End file.
